


oh, how we turn

by Bagel (namio)



Category: Yokai Kitchen (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-01-15 06:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21248921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/namio/pseuds/Bagel
Summary: I am moved by fancies that are curled around these images, and cling:the notion of some infinitely gentle, infinitely suffering thing.“Your energy flows beautifully,” Quan Zisu says.Yun Ji frowns. “It’s resentment energy. My entire being runs on resentment to function.”An understanding smile. “All the same.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cygnisor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cygnisor/gifts).

> characters are footnoted. I hope yall happy i wasted 20 minutes of my lunch break on that and that alone

1.

A day, for instance:

Late evening. The bustle has died down. Even those cleaning up after this busy day’s work have retired, some already snuffing out their lamps; he sits on the roof, carefully avoidant, staring at the moon.

Generally, Yun Ji cannot linger too long in one place— the resentment flowing from the gap his heart used to be seeped into the earth like overwatered ink on rice paper. Its blooms strangle real blooms of new growth. A fundamental part of this him has killed new life.

That he is here, it’s not an uncalculated move. He does feel gratitude towards the boss of this restaurant— to accommodate him, they added spirit stones to make sure his presence doesn’t suck out all life from this place.

It’s a nice place. Really is. He’s learned things, met new _ people_. A number of them are friendly. But it’s been so long since he’s been in society, so all this is….

“Care to join me?” a voice from below— Yun Ji peers down and finds that it’s Quan Zisu, _ qin _ slung over his back, head cocked to the side. In the dimness of the crescent moon, his long white robes melt to the ground in shadows. “You seem pensive, but not the sort that require solitude. I’m heading further down the island to play some music. Care to join?”

2.

Yun Ji has never been good with instruments, but millennia have turned that rust into red dust.

Quan Zisu smiles as he tunes his _ qin_. They are sitting underneath some trees; despite the ungraceful location, he balances his instrument on his lap with ease, looking not a touch out of place. “What about the rest of the four arts? General Yun certainly lacks nothing in martial arts and military tactics, too.”

“I suppose I wasn’t bad at _ qi_ [1],” Yun Ji acquiesces. “Calligraphy, too, though my paintings aren’t very good. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much interest in it, so I didn’t apply myself fully to the art.”

Several more twangs— the difference in tone is minute, but trained ears must’ve heard much more. Yun Ji has to admit that lack of sight probably factors into that as well— the body, when deprived of one thing, compensates with another. It’s not meant in ill-spirit; it, he feels, reflects the resilience of bodies and lives on this earth.

It can’t be easy to play the _ qin _ without sight, though. He’s always had problems remembering positions on the strings.

“Playing _ weiqi _with a border General, I might have to pass on that one,” Quan Zisu jokes. “To be frank, though, I never did get the chance to learn how to play it properly. Perhaps the General could show me one day? Call it a favor.”

Yun Ji chuckles. It’s more air than laughter. “If I still remember the rules. I haven’t played in in literal lifetimes.”

They are saved from further words by a song starting. Perhaps Quan Zisu is just gifted at reading the fine lines of silences— he falls quiet and starts playing instead. It’s not a tune Yun Ji recognizes, though it’s not as if he recognizes many— still, he knows unfamiliarity, and this piece is unfamiliar. The melody flows from note to note without much lingering pauses, sometimes going back and forth like waves, sometimes twinkling in a muted high prick; a song of the sea.

Being who he is, Yun Ji does know how to swim. He doesn’t recall the days he was taught how to do so, but it must’ve gone something like this: a calm spring day, the river not far from the Yun family manor, his father. It took the entire day for him to learn to properly paddle and keep himself afloat. By the start of summer, he was already crossing the river back and forth, and when its flow slowed in midsummer, he would lie on his back and watch the foliage pass by above him.

The current carried him. It moved too fast for him to be secure, but he wasn’t drowning.

3.

“That was a song from my people,” Quan Zisu says once the last note has faded away. “I reckon it’s quite different from what you’re used to.”

“It’s nice,” Yun Ji says. “I don’t remember what the songs I used to listen to are like, anyhow.”

Fragments of Zhao, for him, are just the Crown Prince, the Yun family army at the border, a cup of poisoned wine, and the capital gate. He doesn’t even remember the Emperor before his nephew— his brother-in-law. His older sister, he does. She must’ve been sad her little brother couldn’t even save her only son.

Songs, culture, clothes, he’s forgotten those. Perhaps that’s something to be sad about.

“That makes sense,” Quan Zisu says. “Perhaps we ought to continue without comparisons. Let it flow through you. Let it lull you.”

Moonlight. In the dark of night, underneath a tree, a man borne of seafoam, a pale blue glow from a tired man’s heart.

4.

“Yun Ji _ sleeps_?”

“Xiao Bai[2], shut _ up_!”

“But _ we _had to wake up early!”

“Didn’t you just say it? Yun Ji never slept before, let him sleep for fifteen more minutes.”

“I’m afraid he’s already awake, Boss,” Quan Zisu says from behind them. “The rustles inside seem to point to that.”

Yun Ji, in fact, has already woken up. He’s a light sleeper. “I’m awake. I’ll be right there.”

Breakfast today is by Yue Ling[3] and Mo Qi[4]. Next week, when they move to Kunlun Peaks again, the latter will be leaving for the Qilin Palace, so some have asked him to at least make them his fantastic deep-fried dough sticks and soymilk. Even from the sleeping quarters, they can hear the loud chatter and occasional yowls from the kitchen.

Maybe it really is a miracle that he managed to fall asleep, he thinks.

"I think we ought to get breakfast before Yue Ling starts searching for Boss again," Yun Ji says as he opens his door, curbing the tiny bit of fond exasperation that almost bleeds into his voice. "Let's go?"

The crowd scatters, Quan Zisu at the rear. They exchange genial smiles, turn away, and trail after the boss and Xiao Bai.

5.

The food was nice.

Yun Ji helps with clean-up and compliments Mo Qi on the taste of his soymilk. Mo Qi thanks him, eyes his face for a bit, then shakes his head a little as if just to himself.

“Is something wrong?” Yun Ji asks.

This time, Mo Qi’s shake of a head is definitely meant for him. “Nothing. Get better sleep.”

Yun Ji wonders how he comes to this advice, given that his eyes are quite permanently rimmed in red— it’s just part of how his body is, now. But he nods anyway. Doctors are like that. The army physician was like that, too, and the imperial ones the Crown Prince sent was much worse— they were _ good_, that wasn’t the problem. They just rarely took into account the fact that he was leading battles.

But, you know, he nods. They were doing their jobs. And sometimes he ignored their advice— he too had his job.

At least nowadays it’s just cooking.

6.

Quan Zisu really is fit for the front; he’s friendly and good with conversations, while not being so extroverted as to _ need _ all the noise.

Or even much of a response, which is nice.

“Some people would still pick a fight with you even when you’re smiling and being polite the entire time,” Quan Zisu muses about the day’s events. “I’ve grown to accept that, as does Shi Xiao[5], but poor Mu Tong[6] has been disturbed by it the entire day. I hope his older brother talks to him about it.”

“He does have poor self esteem,” Yun Ji says. “Poor child. But he’s very determined and hard-working in spite of that. That’s what really matters, I think.”

It’s not as late as yesterday, so when they both head out they head out further down. They go beyond the ring of water separating the inner isle from the outer, closer to the turtle head, and even then Quan Zisu doesn’t immediately play his _ qin_. His long fingers rest on the strings.

They’re eye-catching hands. It’s a new moon tonight so there’s not much visible, but even in silhouette they’re pleasing in movement. Quan Zisu is only running his fingers over the strings absently as he talks, but they look like the flow of hair immersed in water.

“I agree,” Quan Zisu says. “I think Boss and Mu Yi [7] will need to talk to him first, though. Us, ah, _ elders _ can only chat about it with each other. The ones who can get through to him are those two.”

Yun Ji pauses, then chuckles. “Ah, now I feel old.”

“You look youthful,” Quan Zisu reassures, laughing too. “Not a day past a hundred twenty.”

“Twenty six,” Yun Ji corrects. “That’s my age on my death. Though I reckon I look quite a bit older now.”

At that, Quan Zisu is the one who pauses. “I forgot how different human lifespans are. Maybe I’m the old one. I was 138 before I looked your age.”

Yun Ji smiles, eyes crinkling despite the stiffened muscles of his face. It must look bizarre, if not a tad frightening. “It’s all right. You don’t look a day past twenty.”

7.

Tug, release, push, pull. Water laps at the rock’s edge, wearing them away. Layers dislodge.

The water takes.

“There’s a perception among humans that merfolk are docile,” Quan Zisu says, hands plucking silk strings in relentless repeats. “Actually, the sea is more relentless than people imagine.”

“I’ve heard. Large ships would disappear without a trace.”

“Ah, they did leave their traces. But that’s all they’ve become.” Quan Zisu chuckles. “But it’s not all storms and maelstroms. We do still have gentler sides.”

The melody returns to its rhythmic flow, ebbs and rises, docile as a moonless night.

Still. Waves erode.

The water takes.

8.

“Yun Ji, you all right? You’re looking paler than usual,” Boss asks. “Bad night?”

Yun Ji chuckles. “Boss, my skin is always like this. I’m fine, no need to worry.”

They’ve just finished breakfast; the cooks are settling behind their stations, everyone else are streaming out of the kitchen. One of them walking out pauses mid-step.

The boss eyes him some more, but can’t seem to find a good enough reason to continue. “Well, today we’re closing at 5 as always, so at least you can get better rest later. Don’t hide things from me. It’ll be harder if you end up collapsing in the kitchen or something.”

Boss has such strange imagination. Yun Ji laughs and pats their shoulder, pushing them to get out. “I won’t. No need to worry about me, go check on the farms.”

“Yue Ling, keep an eye on him!”

“I heard you, now go!”

9.

“General Yun does know how to swim, right?”

A nod. “Not as well as back when I was alive, though. Both stiffness and less buoyancy. But I’m not in imminent danger of _ drowning _ the moment I get into water.”

“Humans _ are _ surprisingly buoyant,” Quan Zisu agreed. “When I first traded my tail away, I had to relearn how to swim. I thought I was going to drown, but when I thought I’d come to peace with drowning, I floated to the surface. It’s then that I realized how to float. I just had to let go.”

The current carries you that way, they both agreed.

A bit funny, how an undead and a former merfolk ended up talking about how to swim. What a strange night, that was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what am i even writing
> 
> [1] _Qi/weiqi_: The game _go_. [return to text]  
[2]小白 Xiao Bai | Fox • Roxy[return to text]  
[3]月铃 Yuè Líng | Cat • Moonbell[return to text]  
[4]麒麟 • 墨麒 Mò Qí | Qilin • Ebony[return to text]  
[5]龙族 • 时萧 Shí Xiāo | Dragon • Leon[return to text]  
[6]重明鸟 • 慕瞳 Mù Tóng | Sunbird • Bryan[return to text]  
[7]重明鸟 • 慕翊 Mù Yì | Sunbird • Brandon[return to text]


	2. Chapter 2

10.

“It has come to my attention that my music seems to put you ill-at-ease,” Quan Zisu says as a preface. He looks up from his tuning, places where his eyes ought to be underneath the black cloth pointed at Yun Ji— without eyes, he stares. “Should we stop this? I had no intentions of leaving you with nightmares.”

“It’s not nightmares,” Yun Ji says. “It’s not related.”

He pauses.

“Just… water.”

“Water,” Quan Zisu says. “Ah. I feel it too.”

“Like I’m floating down a river,” Yun Ji says.

Quan Zisu nods. “Like time.”

Ah. That is true.

Like time.

11.

This restaurant survives on a revolving door of people: their chefs and waiters change on the regular, with only several permanently staying. The ones who stay are those without other homes. Yun Ji is one of them.

Quan Zisu is another. Both of them, it seems, are displaced by time.

“It was quite bizarre,” Quan Zisu explained. “I was dead for quite some time.”

“Ah,” Yun Ji chuckled. “So was I. But this world works in mysterious ways.”

His body was hung on the capital gate for ten days, a grotesque flag denoting the invaders’ claim upon the land. Several others entombed with him had been his trusted men and fierce fighters— they told him that it had been the very moment hope died. They hung him by the neck and his body rotted in the sun. Mysterious ways indeed.

“It felt like a torture at first,” Quan Zisu said, absently sipping his wine as he stared off into the sea. The giant turtle was in flight; they were sitting on the wall of jutting rocks as they watched the world underneath pass by. “But thankfully, now it’s just strange.”

“Reawakening after death _ can _ feel like torture,” Yun Ji agreed. “Especially unwanted.”

Especially entombed. The period of time it took for him to break free from his coffin was unknown, and might never be known, but it was the closest he’d ever gotten to unadulterated insanity. The bondage, the suffocation, the sensory deprivation— it was worse than anything. When he broke free, he shattered the stone lid of his coffin in half hysterics.

“...Yes. I suppose even today, I still feel this sense of… loss, that was inflicted upon me.” Quan Zisu put down his cup. “When I died, I thought, at least it was over. But now I’ve returned, and while the pain lingered, his memories had already dispersed.”

“I hope you’ve found closure,” Yun Ji said. Quan Zisu glanced at him and smiled.

“I don’t know what I’d say to him, anyway, so perhaps it’s better to just forget rather than attempt to find closure. Some people, trying to understand them feels too much like justifying their deeds.”

Yun Ji sighed as he picked up his own drink. “That’s fair. Or sometimes you understand, but you still can’t let go. Maybe letting go is the more important part.”

Maybe. But it was so hard to justify letting go, Yun Ji felt, when the one in the wrong was himself.

12.

Time. He floats in it, not quite grounded.

Perhaps Quan Zisu does understand some aspects of this weightlessness.

“I just got feedback from Boss that the songs I play are _ all _ sad,” Quan Zisu says as he tunes his _ qin_, one hand wiping the pearl-like surface with obvious love. The full moon’s light drapes over man and instrument like a translucent veil. “I hope I didn't make you sad this past two months, General Yun."

"They don't, don't worry," Yun Ji reassures. On the grass he’s laid out a small square of cloth, and on it he’s placed plates and snacks, as well as two cups and a jar of wine. They’re little things made from leftover ingredients from today’s work. Well, the wine is from Quan Xiyan [8]. “I rather like them. Some are somber, but in no way unpleasant.”

Quan Zisu’s lips twitch. “The both of us might just be sad souls. Well, I shall continue, then.”

13.

Quan Zisu reaches forward to wave a hand in front of his face.

"Huh?"

The music has stopped.

"You were drowning," Quan Zisu says, "not floating. I'm sorry I didn't notice."

"What do you mean?"

He gets a sympathetic look. "I don't think you should listen to my playing anymore. If it hurts you more than help, I don't think it's worth it."

“You play incredibly well,” Yun Ji says. He blinks. There’s a… part of his head, maybe his eyes, that doesn’t really want to focus— he feels cotton-headed. “It’d be a shame if I miss out on it.”

A gentle laugh, but Quan Zisu’s expression turns serious. “Yun Ji, look at me.”

Red-rimmed eyes flicker to the source of the voice.

“Breathe. Stay with me.”

14.

Yun Ji knocks on the door, his left hand holding a Bamboo Delight.

It hasn’t been long since dinner, but he didn’t make much of it, so hopefully it’ll be fine. 

“Thank you,” Yun Ji explains, “for last night.”

Quan Zisu smiles, though it’s faint. “Thanks for what? It’s only right. Thank you, General Yun’s cooking always looks so delicious.”

“I hope it tastes so as well.” Yun Ji looks to the side. “And that we can remain friends. It’d be a great shame if last night….”

At that, Quan Zisu bursts out into chuckles. The plate of food in his hand shakes for a brief second, but he stabilizes it with his other hand as he tries to stop his laughter. Yun Ji’s cheeks feel weird.

“General Yun, you’re making last night sound like a very clandestine affair.” He lets out one last amused breath, but when he looks up and into Yun Ji’s eyes, the amusement is warm and sincere. “Of course. I hope I didn’t give any indication that our friendship is over because of that. It’s understandable, after all.”

15.

They remain good friends.

There’s no more nightly music, though, which is a shame, Yun Ji thinks. But it’s understandable— apparently he’s fallen into such a strange daze that Quan Zisu had to pull him back to the restaurant, and he stayed in that daze until close to dawn. The music didn’t have any magic injected into it, but something had gone wrong, so it was likely that the problem lied in Yun Ji.

So they remain good friends, but their conversations remain mostly in daylight, within the confines of the restaurant.

16.

"Didn't you hesitate at all before approaching me?" Yun Ji asks one day as he washes the dishes. Quan Zisu, receiving the wet plates and drying it with a rag, tilts his head.

Quan Zisu can see in other ways, this is a well-known fact amongst the staff. Boss is the one most familiar with the details, but everyone more or less knows that it involves seeing the energy from within everything.

They might've served the undeads in this restaurant, but Yun Ji is far more powerful than them, so surely the resentment flowing out of him is much more menacing. Most undeads don't leave their surroundings barren so fast as he does. And while nobody in the restaurant, well, _ discriminates _ against him, Yun Ji does… wonder. For individuals like the Dragon King, that he’s not affected by common folk’s perception is understandable. But Quan Zisu can clearly see what he is made of.

On the other half of the kitchens, Ao Lie [9] and Mu Yi are cooking their dinner. There might be _ tanghulu _ later tonight.

“Your energy flows beautifully,” Quan Zisu says. He wipes the bowl clean and stacks them with a dozen others. He waves his hand and their conversation pauses— Shi Xiao bounds over to take the cleaned dishes and place them back in the cupboards. Once he left, the tension releases.

Turning off the tap, Yun Ji frowns. “It’s resentment energy. My entire being runs on resentment to function.”

An understanding smile. “All the same.”

There’s an awkward silence as Yun Ji grabs a soaking pot and works on that— Quan Zisu just stands there, a damp rag in hand, a light smile on his face. Yun Ji— Yun Ji admits that there’s something kind of intimidating about that. Not in a threat sense of the word, but that… he knows something Yun Ji doesn’t.

"General Yun, you can't expect me to be intimidated by you," Quan Zisu laughs. "Yue Ling is more intimidating than you are, when you’re not in General mode."

Yun Ji turns and stares. He gets an amused chuckle for that.

"Energy doesn't just exist as is. Your cultivated core is shaped by you. It's quite different from the norm. It's very clean."

"How could it be? It's such strong resentment that—"

He stops.

Quan Zisu smiles. "That's why I found no reason to hesitate."

It's— Yun Ji turns back to the pot. After so much cream fish stew, it needs a thorough wash and then some to make sure all of the oils are gone. He’s always done it twice. Yeah….

“Very kind of you,” he mumbles. “Thank you for the benefit of the doubt.”

“You’re very welcome.” Another chuckle. “I daresay it has a massive payoff. You’re doing just fine, General.”

17.

He has to admit, that conversation did make him feel better. Perhaps there’s still a loss, because he doesn’t mean to have such an adverse reaction to someone’s… _ qin _playing, of all things, but he doesn’t feel too bad about the incident.

18.

“_Xiao jiujiu_, I learned a new song last month! You’ll listen to it, won’t you?”

Of course, my prince.

“You’re still teaching me how to swim later this week, right?”

Of course….

Yun Ji stares at the paper-white ceiling, floating, floating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE FLIRTING. IT STARTS. (cake elmo on fire meme)
> 
> 8 較人 • 泉汐颜 Quán Xīyán | Mermaid • Arie [return to text]  
9 龙王 • 敖冽 Áo Liè | Dragon • Goldman [return to text]


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I should find_   
_Some way incomparably light and deft,_   
_Some way we both should understand,_   
_Simple and faithless as a smile and shake of the hand._

19.

“His name was Pei Qingjiu.”

Yun Ji blinks. “Huh?”

Quan Zisu pours them both tea. “The one I gave my eyes to. After he regained his sight, he got drunk on power.”

“Despicable individual,” Yun Ji comments. 

The grin on Quan Zisu's face looks… wolfish. "Somehow I find other people condemning him too to be… fun. Everyone around him always praised him, you know. They thought he regained his sight as a blessing from the gods…"

“You know the truth, but knowing the truth all by yourself is still a tiring weight on one's shoulders,” Yun Ji says, nodding. He understands that feeling very well. “Well, I think the rest of us in this restaurant can agree that he is an ungrateful person. Talent without good character is hardly worth it. Even in court, I think loyalty far outweighs anything else, in the end. Trust.”

Quan Zisu smiles, this time softer, genuine. “General Yun is right.”

“I hope you find somebody better, Quan Zisu,” Yun Ji said, solemn. “This world is a vast place.”

A laugh. “Thank you.”

20.

For the undead, sleep isn’t… necessary.

Yun Ji doesn’t do it when he has things to do, but does it when he doesn’t feel like thinking all night. Tonight is neither— he’s fallen asleep out of boredom, but woke up upon hearing noises down the hall. It’s faint, short, but sounds urgent— rolling out of bed, he leaves his room to check on it.

It must’ve been so late; everything is silent, only the moonlight accompanies him. Now in the hallway, he can hear murmurs from other rooms— Xiao Bai is always somewhat noisy, and so is the boss. But this one is, hmm…

Yun Ji knocks on Quan Zisu's door. “Quan Zisu? Are you okay?” A pause. “I heard something.”

There’s a long silence, stretching time like a pulled dough. In the end, though, a quiet voice: “One moment.”

Rustles, then footsteps. The door opens. “Sorry. Did I disturb you, General Yun?”

“Ah,” Yun Ji says, eloquently, “Just. Worried. Nightmare?”

“Par for the course,” Quan Zisu says. He looks… bleary. He sleeps in simpler robes, all white— it makes him look a bit ghostly, with his pallor. Like river spirits. “Thank you for the concern.”

Par for the course, of course. “Do you need company?”

And now the two of them sit on the small table present in all bedrooms, the moonlight bathing the area just off to the side. The light bounces off the woven carpet, just a bit— they glow a little bit brighter on its way back.

Quan Zisu folds his arms on the table and buries his head in them.

“I don't regret it,” he says, “but it still hurts somehow. What am I supposed to do?”

His voice is muffled and small, raw and open. It’s a far departure from how smooth and in-place he feels on a normal day, and admittedly, Yun Ji doesn’t know how to act. React. He places his hand on Quan Zisu’s shoulder and squeezes it a little, then moving in an awkward attempt at a comforting rub.

“A wound can sometimes hurt long after it's closed,” Yun Ji says. “It's not your fault.”

“It's not. But it still hurts…”

Quan Zisu almost falls asleep like that. Yun Ji pulls him up to return to bed, though, and closes the door on his way out.

21.

“I'm glad to see that you and Zisu are getting along,” Boss says as they pass by, a large bag of fodder in one arm. “Looks like you’ve been getting stuff out of your chest.”

“Ah?” Yun Ji himself is carrying back a massive basket of watermelons— he can barely see ahead of him. “Well, it’s been fruitful.”

“It’s great. You can even pun now.”

The boss leaves, but Yun Ji can’t even shoot the back of their head a confused look.

22.

“Sometimes while we’re fighting,” Quan Zisu starts, chuckling to himself, “I can’t help it, but watching General Yun from the back makes me wonder how valiant he must’ve looked in the battlefield.”

Tonight they are watching the moon from Yun Ji’s room, but it is Quan Zisu that brought their ‘snack’. Peony shrimps, beautifully arranged on a simple white plate, sits next to chilled peach tea. 

“I simply fought for what I loved,” Yun Ji says, though there is a strange, widespread pricking sensation on his face. “And did what was necessary. And the same goes for now.”

“It's an admirable strength of character,” Quan Zisu says. “What army did you lead back then, General Yun?”

“The  _ Yanyun _ cavalry was the one I was known for. It was the core of the Yun family's army for three generations. Because of it I was raised on horseback and spent most of my childhood with my father's trusted soldiers, so if I’m rough around the edges, then I apologize.”

Quan Zisu laughs, picking at a shrimp to eat. His long fingers make the act of clipping look elegant. “You are most definitely not rough. Is  _ Yanyun _ Ji Hu’s actual name, then?”

Yun Ji turns away. “Ji Hu is Ji Hu. The tiger tally just represented the power to mobilize the _ Yanyun _ cavalry.”

“All these military things are new to me,” Quan Zisu admits. “I don’t understand it at all, so I might trouble General Yun with some banal questions.”

“It’s absolutely not a problem. It’s been a very long time as well, so I might not remember everything.”

“What you've said so far has been interesting. What's the army you lead like?”

Yun Ji hums, trying to dredge up old memories long buried in the sand. “The cavalry is only eight thousand strong by the time it was passed down to me. But they were elite soldiers, good men with generations-long loyalty to their commanders. But alongside it we need foot soldiers, the infantry and shieldbearers. And then we also have archers. So the army under the Yun family was sixty thousand total.”

It was the biggest army in Yanzhao, Yun Ji remembers. But of course, other armies existed. The country was 1,500,000 strong once. But Yun Ji didn't remember exactly if that was his grandfather's generation or his.

“How do you keep a hold on them? I can't imagine no dissenters in such a massive group."

Yun Ji smiles. “They're divided into smaller and smaller units. I primarily communicate with the second and third highest ranks in this hierarchy, so that they can pass it further down. Dissent can happen, but I've been with them since I was 16, so when I took on my father's position at age 21, they were more or less familiar with me. That helped.”

“So young.”

“Perhaps. But I was trained well, thankfully.”

“What about battles? What are they like?”

This time, Yun Ji laughs. “Sometimes it's exhilarating. Rest of the time, it's hell on earth.”

23.

“I didn’t even see his face. I don’t remember it anymore. When I wake up, I don’t remember how I know it’s him.”

Yun Ji let out a heavy exhale. “I know what you mean.”

But the dreams go on.

24.

“Good morning,” Quan Zisu greets as he takes his breakfast from Yun Ji’s station, holding two mugs— “Coffee?”

25.

“This is somewhat of a bizarre choice, if you ask me.”

Today is a special day for the merfolk, and Atlantis is busy with its celebration of the Moon Goddess. Yue Ling has forbidden Boss from going to the worshipping-dance ceremony this year, citing the events that happened last year with Quan Zisu, and so most of the restaurant staff have split into two groups: those roaming the festival and those who went to watch the dance.

Yun Ji had lagged behind following either group. Quan Zisu’s gaze caught his.

“Not going, General Yun?”

“I don’t think I should go to large crowds like that,” Yun Ji admits. “It doesn’t usually end well.”

“How about we go together, then?” Quan Zisu says. “I think I’m sitting out the festivities, too.”

Likely using his own knowledge of the area, Quan Zisu finds a quiet piece of the beach. The sand is hardly a crescent, though, lining the waters— they’re a thin strip. They give way under him with a wet squelch as he walks on them— the waves had seeped in between each grain, loosening them. Quan Zisu takes his shoes off before reaching shore and puts them atop a flat rock, and wades into the high tide with a strange, quiet certainty.

“Be careful,” Yun Ji calls out, out of habit more than anything else.

Quan Zisu turns around. “Yun Ji, you weren’t there to watch the moon-worshipping dance last year, were you?”

“I hadn’t joined yet, no.”

“Then you can’t miss out on it this year either,” Quan Zisu says, a smile on his face.

He moves. The many layers of his robes float flat atop the water’s surface, but the slow, strong waves would drag them back and forth, also crashing onto his legs. But Quan Zisu stands remarkably steadily in the water, not unlike the rocks, and raises his arms in a gesture of worship. His sleeves slide down them, smooth as silk, a mere shade lighter than the exposed pale skin.

The moon-worshipping dance incorporates many swinging gestures, ones that must look even more fantastical in water, where these layered fabrics would shimmer with effortless grace, but Quan Zisu pulls it off half-dry. In its closing move, he lowers his head, and his hair spreads like black silk. He has moved further back into the sea in the middle of it, or perhaps the tide has just risen without Yun Ji noticing it, but now his robes float around him like a full moon.

“You must’ve been a prodigy back then,” Yun Ji says. Quan Zisu laughs.

“I was a student of the Head Priestess back then. Call me vain, but I _ was _ praised for my dancing.”

“It’s justified vanity.” Yun Ji looks to the distance, where glimmers of light glint from underneath the sea. Their muffled glow is oftentimes obscured by the blinks of moonlight on faraway waves, but they peek through, warm yellow. “A shame you didn’t showcase it in front of the crowds. I think _ they _might be missing out.”

“If you stick your head in, you can hear the singing and dancing,” Quan Zisu says, beckoning him with a nod. “Sound travels far in water, you won’t feel too much like you’re in an isolated part of the beach with one other person if you come down here and listen in on them.”

Yun Ji laughs. “You’re just trying to get me into the water.”

“The tide will be rising some more as the night deepens,” Quan Zisu says, a light-hearted grin softening his expression. He looks more… bold. “There’s no reason not to take off your shoes and join me.”

Yun Ji takes off his boots and his armor. It feels strange, to just be without the metals supporting him for so long, and while he’s awake, too. But he wades into the sea lighter, and finds that the water and the waves restored that pull of weight— his clothes wet, they’re noticeably heavier. Foams lap at his knees. His hair drags in the water behind him.

“Come further, all you’ll get staying there is wet pants and not much else,” Quan Zisu says, chuckling. He extends a hand. “Here, let me guide you.”

26.

Quan Zisu catches a cold. 

Yue Ling only comes over to leer at him. “Went swimming at night, huh? Serves you right.”

Later, Yun Ji sends over a bowl of congee he’d made for breakfast. It’s steaming hot, with the biting spice of black pepper— Quan Zisu eats it spoonful by spoonful, and goes back to sleep.

27.

Quan Zisu was whispering onto the water’s surface.

“Can you hear it?”

Yun Ji was floating on the surface, arms and legs relaxed, water lapping at his ears— when it engulfed his hearing, he could catch faint sounds of a faraway happiness.

“I can,” he said. “I hear it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stop flirting
> 
> edit: i got so carried away by my nano (which is written in past tense) that some accidentally slipped here. whoops.


	4. Chapter 4

28.

Quan Zisu seems to have a newfound peace. Yun Ji is happy for him.

“Good morning, Yun Ji. Breakfast? It smells delicious.”

“Good morning, Quan Zisu. Five more minutes. Then we can eat.”

A chuckle. “I’ll get us some coffee, then.”

29.

"His name was Yan Xin."

The wine tonight must’ve been especially strong— it’s Yue Ling’s brew, so he really should’ve expected it. 

"My older sister died giving birth to him. His father the previous emperor gave him that name because with the Empress gone, he was the little love in his life. Then the previous emperor died when he was five…."

Yun Ji no longer remembers what exactly happened, it's been too long ago. But destabilization quickly occurred, and not long after Yun Ji had to leave to quell trouble at Jiangnan. He returned when he could, but it wasn't as often as he'd like. He wished he could spend more time with his Emperor. He was so young, it must've been terrifying, but his uncle was away so often….

"What was he like?" Quan Zisu asks. He's leaning forward, showing rapt interest— Yun Ji chokes up, feeling his throat tighten.

"He— he was a very sweet child. Whenever I had to return to the borders, he'd always want to go too because he worried about me too much in the palace. He never liked it that I had to go, and sometimes I wish I'd stayed… but I thought that if I could keep the borders safe, he'd be safe too."

In the end, what took his life was internal quagmire.

"Did he ever make excuses so that you'd stay?" Quan Zisu's voice is low, draping over him like a cloak. Yun Ji chokes out a laugh.

"I reneged on several of our promises. I promised to take him hunting once, but it took me 9 months to fulfill it because continuous flooding caused riots in the south. He always made sure we made pinky promises. But I suppose it became worthless when I was able to renege on them several times…. Once, he actually cried. But I put too much strength while wiping his tears, so he actually ended up crying a bit harder."

That reminded Yun Ji why he fought so hard to keep the country safe. His Emperor was young and fragile physically, in need of a shield as he navigated the court at a much too young an age. That episode actually renewed his resolve. It gave Yun Ji a good wake-up call.

“To welcome me back this one time, he made a Meat Burger… well, he instructed the Imperial Cook to do so, with explicit details… according to what Ji Hu told me. But, ah. It was actually his favorite food. But he couldn’t stand spicy, so he had to add that while making that Meat Burger for me. Except that he didn’t really know how spicy the food he’d made was, so that burger was… like fire in your tongue. But it was the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

Quan Zisu’s head is resting on one of his hands, which is propped up on the table. His eyes are focused with attention, glinting in the lantern glow. The pinpricks of light reflecting off them are stars in the dark of his irises. “It sounds like you both hold each other very dear.”

"He's the most precious person, to me."

And Yun Ji failed to save him.

30.

There must've been a time Yun Ji held the last emperor of Yanzhao in his hands, learned how to rock him a bit, called him Xin-_er_. He doesn't remember it, but his mind constructs an image of it. His sister always felt like he spent too much time at the barracks, living a tough army life— she never liked that, although she never spoke up about it either. When she got pregnant, she wanted him to be more present in his nephew's life, be his teacher. The Emperor then _ did _ call him to the Palace once to talk to him about the newborn prince. The man had been like a big brother to Yun Ji. They were taught by the same master of warfare in the Palace, though there was a large age gap between them. He had actually granted Yun Ji the authority to refer to himself as _ chendi_— a younger brother.

Yun Ji doesn't even remember much of this, they're just wisps he held onto through some messy scrawl on scraps of paper. Centuries wore them down, so he copied and copied them again. Details that mattered.

Yun Ji of Yanzhao, rather than undead general Yun Ji.

Yun Ji before the biggest mistake in his life.

31.

Turns out Quan Zisu is good at music _ other _ than the _ qin_— his voice is beautiful, too.

“Apparently one of the ware clan still remembers it. It was something that was born in Yanzhao, too— an erhu. It taught me this song. I haven’t transcribed it to the _ qin_, though.”

Yun Ji dabs at his eyes, a confused laugh spilling from his lips.

“Do you remember the title?” Quan Zisu asks. Yun Ji shakes his head.

“Only something about peach.”

Quan Zisu smiles as he pours them both wine from a small jar. “It’s _ Peach Wine with Company_. So how’s that for a set-up?”

32.

“One Lotus Delight!”

“Four Serene Delicacy!”

“One Sweet Riceballs and three Chicken Wrap to go!”

Another busy day. When the lunchtime rush finally passes and they close for a break, Yun Ji sighs with relief as he throws together a sloppy Meat Burger for himself and Quan Zisu. On his station, Mu Yi is making lunch for himself and Mu Tong. With all the staff lounging around in the kitchen, the atmosphere has become even more lively— really, mostly thanks to the chatterboxes convening.

“Aah, that smells so good, but way too spicy,” Xiao Bai comments, following the scent of grilling meat. “General Yun, won’t you ever make some that isn’t spicy? I’m sure some customers would’ve liked it, too.”

“It’s the recipe,” Yun Ji says, flipping the burgers and pressing it as it sizzles. A sharper scent fills the immediate area. “It’ll taste different if I make it not spicy. It takes a dimension out of the flavor profile.”

“Fine, fine,” Xiao Bai says, listlessly returning to Yue Ling, who’s making a big batch of Cream Fish. A laughter sounds next to Yun Ji’s ear.

“And General Yun is the best at getting what a spice-lover wants their spicy to be, so it’ll be a great shame to have him pander to those who can’t eat spicy.”

Yun Ji almost jumps out of his skin. A hand shoots forward to catch the spatula he almost drops. “Quan Zisu, please, don’t scare me like that. I’m very— twitchy.”

“My apologies,” Quan Zisu says, laughing. His voice is low and vibrates with this soothing tone, and it somewhat tickles his ears. “The food?”

33.

Sometimes, memories of Yanzhao hurt.

Both the things he’s forgotten and the thing he remembers hurt. For example, the gaps: he doesn’t remember his Emperor’s face anymore, nor the sound of his voice. He’s just his little king, the one he would die for. Another, he doesn’t know much of the normal life customs anymore, like what songs were popular or which gods exactly they have shrines for. He doesn’t remember the clothing trends. He doesn’t remember the name of the first horse he had, the one that died in battle.

“How could I forget it all? It’s gone for a long time, but it was my home….”

“Don’t cry. Tears don’t belong in beautiful eyes such as yours.”

Yun Ji laughs, awkward. Beautiful is not a word one would use to describe him, not then but especially not _ now_— Quan Zisu is just a very strange person. But he does wipe his eyes— with his current physiology, crying is somewhat painful. But Quan Zisu is leaning forward and reaching out, dabbing his cheeks with his sleeve. Yun Ji moves back— his sleeves are white, it’ll get dirty.

Quan Zisu moves back, smile dimming.

“Sorry,” Yun Ji says. “I just….”

“No,” Quan Zisu says. “You’re sad, I just want to comfort you. Don’t think about how I feel, how are _ you _ feeling?”

Empty.

“I’ll be all right,” he says.

The dam breaks, sometimes, but he can always build it back up. By the end of the week, the latest, he will have it rebuilt and it’ll hold for the next few years, at least.

34.

"Last night, I just didn't want to stain your sleeve," Yun Ji says over breakfast and coffee. "Sorry about that."

"No offense taken," Quan Zisu says. When he smiles, the sincerity has returned to normal.

35.

“General Yun, two people are looking for you.”

Shi Xiao's amiable voice cuts through the din of orders and hollers, making Yun Ji turn his head even as he sautes some lamb. 

“Looking for me?”

“Two undeads. I think they’re your old followers?”

Yun Ji throws in the rest of the chopped ingredients and douses them with sauce. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

It’s mid-afternoon, and the flow of people aren’t so bad he can’t spare fifteen minutes. After passing the plate to Mu Tong, Yun Ji wipes his hands on a rag and walks outside.

“Which table?”

Shi Xiao gestures to the southeast section, at the very corner. It’s a bit tucked away from the rest of the restaurant, as a decorative fountain separated it from the casual seating section— makes sense, he supposes. Not only are they undeads, they’re also especially potent ones, thanks to how they came to be. “They’ve just gotten their orders, but I think they really want to talk to you because I keep hearing them argue about it.”

Yun Ji weakly laughs. “They’re like that.”

When he gets there, he gets confirmation that it really is Hong Dong and Bai Qishui. They’re the last two of the eight trigram coffin formation people that stayed in the ruins; many have died, many have left.

“Hong Dong, Bai Qishui.”

“G-general Yun!”

He ends up talking with them for almost twenty minutes. Hong Dong still doesn’t want to talk to him much, though in a clearly-he-wants-to way, and Bai Qishui keeps apologizing and explaining his older brother’s words. Yun Ji waves them off with understanding; after all, they’ve been a group for a thousand years. Not much substance goes into the conversation. They talk about how things are in the Deserted Ruins, how he’s doing in the restaurant, and mutual well-wishes and greetings.

“General Yun still has loyal followers even to this day,” Quan Zisu comments when he returns to the kitchen. He’s balancing two trays full of dirty dishes in his hands with enviable grace, maneuvering past him at the doorway— Yun Ji returns his smile, but maybe only half his heart goes into it.

“They're two brothers who were put in coffins surrounding mine,” he explains, washing his hands again and donning fresh gloves. Returning to his station, he glances at the orders Yue Ling rightfully returns to his workload. “After we broke out of the coffins, they started looking at me as a leader. So I led them.”

“Was it a good conversation, though?”

Yun Ji laughs weakly. “Good enough.”

36.

Quan Zisu looks at the distant sky, where clouds are cotton wads clumping into one wide mass. "A storm might be brewing."

"The weather?"

"Not the weather. But there's something in the air is slowly going wrong, and I don't like that I can't put my finger on it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man i wanna perish


	5. Chapter 5

37.

Quan Zisu may have talent for prophecy.

It’s Xiao Bai who brings it up. “Boss, Boss!”

Two people are looking for… rare undeads. Undeads can come to be through a variety of methods. Infection through corpse powder is one. Another is from dying in a place full of resentment— in a sense, this is how Yun Ji became an undead. But rarer than that is a subset arising from formations. Some spells, in trying to amass resentful energy or seal something, would create these formations and some would use coffins arranged a certain way. After centuries, depending on the type of spell, the bodies within them might rise as undeads. But because they are steeped in power, they tend to be more powerful than the normal living corpses. For one, Yun Ji is a drought demon after only a hundred years.

All this, Yun Ji learned from centuries and centuries of people both fearing him and his group, as well as them being hunted down by the occult path to be refined into demonic weapons.

He leaves promptly.

“I’m going with you,” Boss says. Yun Ji shakes his head.

“I’ll be all right, Boss.”

“Staying behind just makes me worry. I’m going.”

Ah. Such a familiar sentiment….

“All right. But please be cautious.”

He’s said no enough times, to his Emperor. Boss is no substitute for his Emperor, but perhaps Yun Ji needs to hurt them less— both of them.

38.

It goes absolutely wrong.

39.

Golden light bursts out of him, almost holy in its brilliance. His hair turns gold. The two black-clad robbers are staring in horror. He lifts a hand and they’re slashed in two, four pieces.

“General Yun! They’re dead already, stand down!”

He chops off their heads.

Two people can leave so much blood. There doesn’t need to be a mountain of bodies for the ground to stain a near-black. Yun Ji drops his sword, mouth twitching a little.

“You don’t have to worry anymore, Boss.”

40.

Boss comes to the tombs twice, the second time with Quan Zisu.

“What are you even _ doing _here, Yun Ji?” Boss asks, crossing their arms. They’re getting real annoyed, Yun Ji can tell. Yun Ji shakes his head.

“This place is where I should’ve stayed all along, Boss. Yanzhao [12]… it’s my homeland. I was born in the name of its service, and I should’ve died in my service to it. Now that I’m awakened after my death, it’s only right I continue to stay here.”

Absolute bollocks, of course. After all, Yun Ji chose to leave it over a year ago. Fascinating, how a year there felt much longer, more impactful than a century in this wasteland.

“You’re a _ lunatic _ while you’re lying,” Boss says. After that, they leave.

Quan Zisu is still there, standing where he’s been this entire time. There’s understanding in his eyes, which is… well. Yun Ji doesn’t know what he makes of it in an emotional sense, but it’s the same kind of knowing look Yue Ling shoots ever so often.

“General Yun should take care of himself,” Quan Zisu says. He turns slightly, but doesn’t leave quite yet. “Try and remember this Zisu. The general does so much for others, but in doing so doesn’t really know what they feel.”

Yun Ji stares at his retreating back, watches him disappear from view, but cannot bring himself to call out.

41.

“General, are you so sure you can handle the lightnings? You refused Boss’s help….”

“The Nine Heavenly Tribulations is overbearing, when already injured, being repeatedly struck down, why would I want Boss to take risks?”

Bai Qishui’s voice shows his worry more than his rigid face can. “General….”

Yun Ji sighs, pushing himself up. “You two go train yourselves. I might not be able to protect you anymore in the future.”

“Who wants your protection?” Hong Dong suddenly pipes up, fiery. “My brother and I followed you in your lifetime, then joined you after death. You want us to get struck down repeatedly? Even Qishui would reincarnate early!”

Yun Ji, “......”

Bai Qishui, on the other hand, looks downright _ inspired_. “Big brother is right. This isn’t anything terrible, General have to survive this tribulation, just as big brother and I will also enter the thunderstorm to join General into reincarnation!”

“Wait, no, that’s not what I meant, you two—!”

42.

He manages to dissuade Bai Qishui. They return to the ancient tomb, but only because Yun Ji tells them that if he survives the tribulation and they don’t, then they’d have one problem with their train of reasoning.

43.

The Golden Stage[[13](goldenstage)] was once a site of great importance. Nowadays, it's an exposed-earth site in a growing arid desert, dull and muted from centuries of decay that obliterated the lands.

Once, he was here on horseback, the _ Yanyun _cavalry behind him, the rest of the army alongside them, watching as their 6 years old Crown Prince saw them off to war by drinking wine and throwing the golden cup to the ground. His awkward movements were visible even from the distance, but Yun Ji's heart softened at the sight. The crowd that day departed in high spirits.

They were one of the few, in the armies serving Yanzhao. With the splintering political factions came a certain distaste for a child Emperor, after all. But everyone in the Yun family army had naught but loyalty for their Crown Prince. This faith was rooted on their leader, General Yun, Duke of the First Rank, Duke Who Upholds Exemplary Virtues.

Perhaps this was what they meant by the spirit of the army was the man leading them.

He held a fierce resistance against the Hu people for five years. In the first two years, the Hu were particularly determined, likely trying to hit on the current weakness within the capital. But Yun Ji was even more determined, he thinks. For them, what their conquest of Yanzhao represented was territory, food, land. For Yun Ji, keeping the border safe meant his Crown Prince might have a safer time in the capital.

Before his father died at the borders when Yun Ji was 21, he took Yun Ji to the Golden Stage. There, he put his hands on Yun Ji’s shoulders and they both looked at the portraits of ancestors.

“Ji-_er_, I want you to remember this.

“All these people, ten generations of the Yun, are here commemorated not only because of their exemplary talents, but because they used it out of love of the country, of its people, and its Emperor.

“One day, your father will leave the Yun family army to you. When you lead them to battle, remember that. Remember that in our lives, glory, the only form it exists in is in serving Yanzhao.”

The Golden Stage was where it started, for Yun Ji. He wants it to be where it ends.

44.

"Boss!" It's Quan Zisu. Panic is wild in his eyes, as he runs out of the restaurant with his _ qin _ strapped onto his back messily. "I'm going with you!"

The gales tears through leaves and branches, raindrops hitting as hard as hail. Boss hardly has the _ ability _ to reply with words, so they only nods, turning around to go again. Yue Ling is barely keeping up, clear distaste for all the rain on her face. The portal to the grounds under is right ahead.

The previously dry lands of the deserted ruins are wet, the cracks filling with excess water. They squelch and slightly give way underneath their feet. Thunders crash and reverberate. Lightning rips through the air. Black clouds grumbled with the angers of the heavens.

Three small figures are running through it all, bound for the Golden Stage.

45.

He once led his Crown Prince here, to the ancestral temple.

He must’ve been no more than 6, maybe 5. He was small enough, at least, that Yun Ji had to carry him so he could see the portraits of the people honored throughout the generations— those who dedicated their lives to the country, facing all sorts of obstacles just to serve it.

He remembers how he used to make it his dream to be in its halls. It was something his mother mentioned, when he asked why she couldn’t go with them to pay respects to ancestors— “Ji-_er_, remember this. No one can enter the Golden Stage outside of the line of the heroes within. So if you want your wife to be able to go, you must be an accomplished general, okay?”

In the end, his mother did earn the right to enter. Her husband died in an assassination after he led his cavalry into a decisive victory just beyond the wall.

The country mourned for a year. The previous Emperor even longer— with the loss of such feared general at the frontiers, not only the Hu, but even the Qin saw an opportunity. For several years, General Yun Feng would reinforce the forces down south using troops led by his second son Vice Commander Yun Ji. Now with him gone, there was only one Yun Ji.

That was… The Crown Prince was probably around four or five when his grandfather died. He’d never seen the man after he turned three; his memory of him must’ve only been a portrait at the ancestral shrine.

And now, here. Yun Ji shifted his hold on the Crown Prince as the boy wiggled around, trying to get comfortable as he looked. "This is my lord father, General Yun Feng, your maternal grandfather, Your Highness. And this is Your Highness' maternal great grandfather, Duke Whose Wisdom Illuminates, Duke Ye."

“And then _ xiao jiujiu_, right?”

Yun Ji chuckled. “I only aspire to serve you that well, Your Highness.”

“I think _ xiao jiujiu _ is good!”

A pause. Yun Ji pressed his cheek against the side of the Crown Prince’s head. “_Xiao jiujiu _promises to earn his place in these halls then, Your Highness.

Centuries ago, the Yan and Zhao states entered a marriage alliance and merged into one in response to the encroaching Qin state. After generations, though, the distinction between Yan and Zhao blurred more and more as all its social strata began to intermarry. The Yun family was not a royal family, but it had marriage ties to the Yan state royal family, and thus served with great fervor. They continued to serve the Emperor, then of Yanzhao.

Yun Ji is the last of the Yun lineage. Today, he walks these halls alone, a storm raging outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do it on-and-off, but I like to grab the original texts and run it through Google Translate and Yabla to get more context and exactly what shit gets lost in the admittedly bad translation of this game. Some bits come out okay. Some segments, though, just went into a blender-- and Yun Ji's story especially, I think. I think it might've something to do with all the historical bits. While the original writing itself already has a lot of inconsistencies, the translation is sometimes just outright _wrong_. For example, Yun Ji's Valiant Warrior skill and his finisher Thunder Storm. They're 百战不殆 and 纵横沙场 respectively, and you can run them through Yabla. Thunder Storm is more ridiculous of the two-- it went from something along the lines of unhindered (in?) battlefield to THAT. Valiant Warrior is... bad, too, because it's more "to come out unscathed from 100 battles", so personally I would've gone with Untouchable or Unscathed.
> 
> BUT ACTUALLY my point was, I didn't end up going with the game translation for his bio specifically for part 41 because there were a bunch of nuance lost in how it was translated.
> 
> But that's like my personal rant. I make too much free time for this entire shit, I really need a life.
> 
> 12 All right, a largely lowkey elephant in the room: the fact that I keep using Yanzhao. I actually like to check the original Chinese texts now and then, noticing that some of the translation are somewhat garbled in English, and this is one of the cases where the translation has... questionable choices. The original states that the country is 燕赵国 (Yàn zhào guó), where guo just means country. The Crown Prince is referred to as 燕赵王. In fact, in the conversation between Tyrone (Ji Hu) and Arthur (Yun Ji), they mentioned that the character should've been "燕" as in "燕云" cavalry, rather than "济" as in his name. So I have NO idea why the translation only said "Zhao". [return to text]
> 
> 13 Golden Stage/Pavilion (黄金台) is a real place, built by a Yan state king. There's not much (none at all) about it in English Wikipedia, but I managed to glean some stuff off Baidu, one of which is the fact that it's built by Yan state. The game translated it as Golden Pavilion, but I chose Golden Stage because that's the translation someone chose for a novel that had that very same name. It's a very good webnovel AND it's gay. Check it out. [return to text]


	6. Chapter 6

46.

The heavenly tribulation for an undead transforming against the heavens' will is eighty one lightning strikes.

Yun Ji has died before, has experienced things worse than death— but these strikes must've forever imprinted itself into his soul.

But he perseveres, it's what he does. He doesn't count it, he just thinks _ one more, survive one more_, and that's the only thought he has space for. Every other part of his body is full up with excruciating agony.

One more.

47.

He must've fallen unconscious.

He wakes up to the ceiling of his room, an angry boss, and the feeling like he made the wrongest of all decisions in all lifetimes.

“Yun Ji, why is it that you have _ will_, but no brains?!”

Yue Ling giggles, in that way that signals that she’s laughing at other’s misfortunes. “Boss, leave him for now, _ ba_. He’s barely alive as is.”

Yun Ji shuts his eyes again, because everything hurts and that includes having his eyes open. In doing so, he misses a figure in blue lingering on the half-closed doorway.

48.

But he dreamed, then. It's a childish voice, breaking because of puberty but still sweet, his prince—

“I said I'll protect you when I grow up. Look, it's great isn't it?”

Nine thunder strikes. 

His Crown Prince is so small, he's not even to Yun Ji's chest as he reaches out to his uncle. Yun Ji, as always, bends down just a bit, following along the tug from his little prince.

“I want to go with you,” his Crown Prince says, frowning. “I'm worried just staying in the capital.”

Yun Ji immediately shakes his head. “The borders are too dangerous. Please stay here, Your Highness.”

He has been stationed at the border for three years now, and every year it’s only gotten even more dangerous. The Hu aren’t known for their weak spirit, and have rebounded after the decisive battle his father led and died from. Even the Qin to the south is now seeking to fish in troubled waters, and Yun Ji has been spreading himself thin guarding against three different armies.

“Fine then… but when I grow up and am great, you have to take me! I'll protect you then.”

“Mm, okay.”

Nine lightning strikes strike a small dragon body. It disperses in a whisper of gold, flickering with a pearlescent glimmer.

Sunlight. Outside the Golden Stage, a charred, but still intact body topples to its back. The grass surrounding him has been scorched black. The man appears to be in deep, exhausted sleep, but in the slackness of his expression there’s a hint of a smile.

“Ah, it is… my dearest king.”

49.

It's a little bit of luck that they're not so far from Kunlun Peaks, though Mo Qi definitely doesn't like finding out somebody almost lost his three souls and seven spirits after his departure. He’s always been a doctor of rigorous principles, though, and hurries back with utmost speed, carrying nothing on him but his tools.

Even _ Qilin _ King Feng Wanjie[[14](fengwanjie)] has tagged along.

Yun Ji is bandaged from top to bottom. Without a proper doctor around, they can only do what they usually do while out on battles, but the wounds from a heavenly tribulation is a bit different. So when these attempts are met only with limited results, they’ve gone to just bandaging him up, at least making sure that his raw skin won’t get infected. Some of the burns charred black, some cracked into open wounds— it’s a disgusting sight to behold, Yun Ji is sure.

The pain is excruciating too, pulsing to his revived heartbeat. If it looks as terrible as it feels, then he might actually throw the mirror if he’s forced to look into one.

“What in the _ heavens _ happened?” Mo Qi demands, inspecting the pinkish, wet flesh his skin has become. One of his hand holds the bandages unravelled from Yun Ji’s head; the other is gently pulling and pushing his face into turning here and there, examining the extent of the damage to his head from all angles. “Heavenly tribulations?”

“My head feels like it's going to split,” Yun Ji weakly laughs. His eyelashes flutter, but his eyes remain firmly closed. “Please, lighter.”

“Pain is a biological indicator,” Mo Qi says. “It’s good, sometimes. Where is it especially painful?”

Hah. That’s such a tall order, when his _ entire body _ is especially painful.

“Somewhere above the temples.”

Mo Qi hums. “I would like to check it, but I can’t touch it right now. I can see some slight protrusion, though. Is this where?”

His fingers ghost over the area; Yun Ji feels the untouch. He nods.

“It’s not rare for people to have horns,” Boss comments. “How many races out there have them, after all.”

So he really has turned from an undead to a mythical beast. It’s… fascinating, in a strange way; he’s never expected this, even though logically he knows it’s a possibility. No. Even though he _ knows _ it’s par for the course.

“Should be normal,” Mo Qi says in agreement. “Well, I’m going to take a look at the rest. Which area did you say was the worst, Boss?”

Boss details out places: left arm, which had broken skin bleeding out pus, back of the shoulder…. Yun Ji zones out. Not from boredom. He just doesn’t want to think.

50.

“A _ qilin_,” Quan Zisu says, breaking the silence that has fallen as Mo Qi wraps up the last of his current wounds. His voice startles Yun Ji, who hasn’t realized that he’s in the room at all. “Congratulations.”

“A _ what_?”

“There's something a bit different about his Spirit Power compared to yours, but I do believe he is a _ qilin _ now.” Quan Zisu tilts his head. “Is he not?”

Mo Qi immediately rechecks Yun Ji’s pulse. Then he grabs his own wrist, then Feng Wanjie's— then looks at his king. "It's faint at this moment, but he might be."

“That's unheard of,” Feng Wanjie says, but his tone is not that of disbelief. “Will he be all right, then? Ah-Mo?”

“He will be fine,” Mo Qi says, shaking his head. Standing up, he brushes his hands and accepts the wet towel Feng Wanjie hands him. “I'll prescribe him something for the burns and growing pains. It usually takes about nine months for the horns and other features to grow, but this case might differ. Stay on a strict vegetarian diet for now. It's probably for the best to move to _ Qilin _ Palace so I can keep a close eye on you.”

“How long?” Yun Ji asks.

Annoyance drips off Mo Qi’s voice. “You’re at this condition and still dare to ask for shorter treatments? Four months at the minimum.”

“Whatever helps him heal,” Boss says. “I’m down for it. And there will be someone who’s actually qualified looking after you too, Yun Ji. How about it? Are you willing?”

Sort of, sort of not— he’s a bit apprehensive about a place he’s never been to, much less a palace. Yes, Feng Wanjie is the king of said palace, but it’d be Boss owing him a favor. Well, favor to Feng Wanjie actually doesn’t seem to be carry as much grave weight as it might’ve before, given that his main worries have recently been resolved, but….

On the other hand, the restaurant definitely doesn’t have the time, hands or skill to take care of someone as injured as him.

“Well,” Yun Ji says, “if you say so, Boss.”

51.

Four months, he supposes. Four months here. In the _ Qilin _ Palace.

Feng Wanjie gave him a nice room in the main palace, where Mo Qi didn’t have to walk too far to check up on him. When Mo Qi left the room, Feng Wanjie murmured to Yun Ji, “I know you must be feeling helpless and anxious, General Yun, but please know that we’re only doing this so you can recover as soon as possible and with as little complications as he can make it. And Ah-Mo is really good at what he does. I’m sure it’ll be even sooner than what he said.”

“_Qilin _ King,” Yun Ji said, “thank you. I’ve been a soldier for a long time, perhaps it’s only time until something like this happens. I think I’ve been very lucky thus far, to not need extensive treatments until now.”

“And that’s a great thing,” Feng Wanjie said. “I’m sorry I can’t stick around for long, though Ah-Mo’s friend is a friend of mine. There are still… things, I must attend to.”

“No, I completely understand.” Yun Ji smiled, though it was wan. “My— my nephew was the Emperor. And I, as his general, often had to leave him behind because of my own duties. The work and responsibility on a leader’s shoulders cannot be put to words, and the weight on good ones are even heavier.”

Feng Wanjie chuckled. “General Yun flatters, I’m only doing what is expected of me. In this world, there is only one person I cannot bear to let down.”

_ I will continue to have the strength to carry anything, so long as I know he’s happy. _

The ears really hear more when the eyes were covered— when Mo Qi came back, Yun Ji swore that he knew who Feng Wanjie was talking about.

52.

It is said that a _ qilin _ appears preceding or after an illustrious leader.

“See, Your Highness? You were a great ruler… it is your General that had failed you….”

He can’t help but think, here. There’s nothing else to do, his entire face is still bandaged up as skin peels off. There’s nothing to do but think.

So he thinks.

53.

How is Quan Zisu? The last time they actually conversed, it was back at the tombs, and Quan Zisu was telling him about how he had hurt their feelings in his attempts to protect them. Wait, no. Quan Zisu was there when Mo Qi checked up on him, revealing the beast he’d turned into. But Yun Ji didn’t say anything to that, so maybe that wasn’t a conversation. But he was _ there. _ That means he wasn’t too angry at Yun Ji, right?

But it’s only natural if he’s angry. People’s reactions to what he does of course are something he can’t control, but it’s kind of like how in guarding the borders, Yun Ji left his Crown Prince to fend for himself. And he might’ve been unhappy about that, might’ve wanted Yun Ji to stay, but Yun Ji decided that going northwest would be better for Yan Xin _ overall_. He still does. What he regretted more would probably be staying behind to ensure the refugees passed safely instead of delegating it to someone else and rushing back….

And in a sense, he feels the same about Boss and Quan Zisu. He’s glad he didn’t drag the heavenly tribulations to the restaurant— after all, it’s not just them two there. It’s not only risking many, many more lives, but it’d also risk all the buildings and even portals they had there. Yun Ji knows that taking it alone was the right thing.

But the thought that Quan Zisu might actually back away from… whatever it is that they’ve developed, that sort of makes his heart throb. Truth of the matter is, many people whose… _ anyone _ goes to war often doesn’t like that. It leaves them behind to worry too much. And if it goes on for years and years, it’s natural for that constant worry to become too much. To bear it requires a certain character, and perhaps a lifelong understanding that this will be the life they lead, all the way to their death. His mother had that character. She watched his father leave for years. She watched him leave for years.

But Quan Zisu hasn’t had that for his reality. He has options. He could’ve chosen anyone else. Yun Ji isn’t someone he was married to because of a political match. He’s….

He doesn’t have to feel this pain.

The more he thinks about it, the more Yun Ji realizes that he brings more pain than he does joy.

54.

It’s so quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 14 麒麟 • 风万劫 Fēng Wànjié | Qilin • Windle  [return to text]


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: panic attack? Someone spiralling down a bad thought pattern and losing it for a solid while.

55.

Mornings, Mo Qi tends to him before breakfast arrives.

Early noons, Mo Qi checks on him before lunch arrives.

Afternoons, Mo Qi makes him walk a bit around his room.

Evenings, Mo Qi changes his bandages before he sleeps.

That’s Yun Ji’s clock now. Everything else is so quiet.

56.

Oh gods. Quan Zisu probably hates him at this point. The shit he puts him through, having to take care of Yun Ji like he’s a toddler— he was playing his _ qin _ then this _ man _just started sobbing all over him, what an insult—

No, there’s no need to go there. What Yun Ji needs to do is to look at this rationally, and try to find ways to mitigate the disaster. For example, he can try to get a better grip on himself, stop being so easily unmoored— it’s been over a thousand years, Yun Ji, you should already be able to control yourself. You messed up a thousand years ago. Even if you beat yourself over for it for the next thousand years, it won’t do anything.

Yan Xin was long dead in a fire, thinking you betrayed him.

No, don’t go down there either. It doesn’t help. Yun Ji can’t do anything about it. No matter what he does _ now_, the truth is that it doesn’t matter. Whatever he does to repent himself for that is only something he does to make himself feel better. But _ should _ he feel better? After all, he’s not the one who died in the fire and betrayal. He’s not the one most hurt by his own mistakes. It was Yan Xin. And Yun Ji will never get his forgiveness for all he’d done.

Maybe Yun Ji just needs to suffer forever? Would that repay it? Can nothing be enough to free him from this torture?

He needs answers. He really needs it. Even if the answer is yes, suffer forever, he needs someone to tell him the answer.

He can’t be the one giving it. He’s drenched in sin, drips it with every step that he walks. He should’ve accepted that poisoned wine and drank it, while someone still had control over him.

57.

Two more months, then he can go back to the restaurant.

Should he, though? But he probably shouldn’t stay here too long, though, and overstay his welcome. He definitely needs to repay this favor at a later date. But where can he go after this? He doesn’t have a home anymore, if the restaurant doesn’t want him back. Yanzhao is _ gone_. It’s been dust for over a millennia.

Yun Ji just wants to go home. Two months is so far away.

58.

It _ slams _ into him on a moonless night.

Everything’s silent, black. The two are a more tangible creature tonight, like it’s _ especially _ silent, _ especially _ black— bizarre. Yun Ji feels like they’re here in his room. Like they’re real things, like they’re sitting with him. It’s like they’re covering his eyes on top of his bandages.

It’s like back when he woke up and he was in the coffin. The silence and the blackness was so real, back then, like demons sitting on him and stopping him from moving— 

He needs to get out. Yun Ji really needs to get out. There’s something stopping him, though, his hands aren’t— what’s wrong with his hands? What’s on them— fuck, he has to get them off, he’s really gotta get out, he

His legs are kicking, but they’re tangled. No. No no no no no no. He can’t— he’s going to— he thrashes, and they’re still tangled, but he can move, he’s going to— where? The thing keeping his fingers together, they’re driving him insane, the feeling has drilled into his brain like a _ gu _worm, itching. He thrashes. A jolt in his stomach—

He fell. Yun Ji feels it, but only after he recovers from the sharp ringing in his— head. His entire head. He hit something hard. The floor? He fell to the floor. Fuck, where is he? Everything’s _ even darker— _

He opens his mouth and lets out a choked, piercing wail.

59.

“We’re taking him back,” Quan Zisu says.

“He’s got gaping _ cuts_,” Mo Qi shoots back, looking almost manic. “Wait until those heal!”

“You can bandage them. But we’re bringing him back. He can’t heal here.”

This time, Mo Qi frowns, but doesn’t refute.

“...Apply these three times a day. You know how to change bandages, right?”

A nod. “Thank you, Mo Qi.”

“I’m a doctor.” Mo Qi sighs. “I’m sorry. I should’ve done better.”

“Everybody _ shut up_,” Boss says, stepping in between them. “Zisu, take him out, yeah? Mo Qi, c’mon with me, are there other wheelchairs I can borrow?”

60.

Someone is trying to lift him off the bed.

Yun Ji struggles a bit, because it’s too—

“Shh, it’s me. We’re taking you back home, okay? Mo Qi agreed that you’ll recover better there.”

It’s someone. After wailing and screaming for so long, there’s someone. Yun Ji isn’t alone. He’s somewhere where there are people in it. Someone finally came.

"I'm sorry," Yun Ji sobs, "please give me a second chance. I'm so scared. I'm so—"

Shushes. "Yun Ji, my treasure, I'm here now, I'm not going anywhere."

He's pulled into a tight hug, one hand rubbing his back. More shushes. Yun Ji shuts his eyes tight. He opens them. It's so— 

“I'm terrified. Like I was in coffin again. Chained. Were so heavy. Was so hard to get out. It was so dark. I couldn't move. I'm so scared, I just— please, don’t leave me alone. I’ll do anything. Don’t leave me there. I don’t want to be there alone. I’m so scared. I’m so sorry. Forgive me. I’ll do anything. Don’t be angry. I’m just so scared.”

Quan Zisu’s arms around his shoulders tighten. His head turns, mouth against Yun Ji’s ear. “I’m sorry. You're here now. With me. Stay with me, sweetheart. Breathe with me.”

Yun Ji’s throat is still sore from tensing too much. He’s convulsing. He’s not even shaking. Every breath pulls every muscle in his body. He can’t breathe. He breathes, but it’s too short. His head is swimming.

“Please don’t leave me alone in the darkness.”

“Never.” Something presses against his hair. He’s being rocked. He’s being held tight, but it feels like a human. “Never. Even if you’re blinded, then I’ll simply give you my eyes.”

61.

When Yun Ji wakes up again, he’s in his room, a small candle lit up in a scallop shell.

He vaguely feels like he’s said something shameful, but he can’t recall what. His memories of the past… who-knows-how-long is a blurry mess, like he's just awoken from a confusing nightmare.

He does remember edging close to losing his mind, though. There are tendrils of fears in the dark corners of his mind, keeping things in place, holding on to the edges hard lest he falls into another terrifying panic. He’s clinging, barely succumbing to that abyss, but clutching the blankets in his hands sort of helps.

He can't remember the past who-knows-how-long. That's not good.

“Good evening, Yun Ji. How was your sleep?” The sound of the door opening, and Quan Zisu walks in perfectly balancing a full tray, a smile gentle on his face. “Good timing, it’s just in time for dinner. You really need to eat— you’ve lost an alarming amount of weight.”

Yun Ji pushes himself up into a seated position. “What happened? How did I get here?”

“Here, eat your dinner first.”

Bone weary, Yun Ji picks up the spoon and starts sipping his congee. Quan Zisu reaches out and tucks some locks of hair behind his ear.

“We brought you home, Mo Qi agreed. He apologized for not realizing you had an adverse reaction to everything.”

That's such a clinical explanation, Yun Ji wonders what has actually happened. “He wouldn’t have known, it’s not his fault.”

“Mm.”

There’s an awkward silence as Yun Ji eats the rest of his food. It’s not just congee, there’s even sliced fruits, all full of spiritual energy, and similarly, juice. Alongside that is tea, too— the assortment is a bit much, but Yun Ji supposes that Quan Zisu could also want tea. He finishes the congee and fruits and takes a sip of his juice.

“I feel like I might've said something stupid, but I can't remember what happened,” Yun Ji admits, putting the glass back down. “If I did, I'm sorry. Don't take it to heart.”

Quan Zisu moves his tray away and returns, rubs his shoulder. “You did nothing of the sort.”

Silence. Then, Quan Zisu buries his face on his shoulder. “It wasn’t something shameful. My beloved, my treasure, I’m so sorry. You deserve the world, not my cold shoulder. I knew all along what your intentions were, but I didn’t _ like _ that you put yourself in danger so much, so I acted that way. But I would never want you to think that I hate you now. I don’t. I thought about you everyday. But I never visited, and we left on a bad note, and you had to be alone for _ months _ thinking that I might’ve ended it…. My Yun Ji, the last thing in this world you deserve is pain.”

His arms have wrapped around Yun Ji’s waist, holding on tight. He’s even shaking, a bit— as if hiding it, he nuzzles Yun Ji’s shoulder, though it doesn’t quite hide his labored, tense breaths. Yun Ji’s heart throbs.

“How is it your fault, Zisu? It’s really not….”

Quan Zisu looks up. This close, Yun Ji can only focus on how his pupils quiver, how they’re actually a deep brown with flecks rather than black. They glisten from moisture. It’s like he’s holding back his tears.

“Yun Ji, this restaurant is your home.” 

62.

Mo Qi and Feng Wanjie drops by a week later.

“I’m sorry as well, General Yun,” Feng Wanjie says as he peels him a Spirit Fruit they brought for him. “Ah-Mo usually tends to his patients much more carefully, but he’s been overly worried about me.”

“Not overly,” Yun Ji says. “I heard from everyone else in the front. You almost died.”

It was quite an episode, even just hearing of it from the back. Yun Ji saw with his own eyes the satisfaction burning in Mo Qi’s eyes as he dunked three tablespoons of chili powder into one bowl of soup, the color obscured by the fact that the soup was a dark red tomato soup.

Honestly, it looked tasty to Yun Ji, but knowing that a cook was actively out for your life while cooking the food you’re eating probably would affect the taste.

“I’m perfectly healthy,” Feng Wanjie argues, pushing the plate of cut-up fruit onto Yun Ji. The slices are beautiful and symmetric, they won’t look out of place on a high end restaurant. How did a king learn such a skill? “But you’re looking better as well, so I’m glad for that.”

“It’s also thanks to Mo Qi. None of you have done anything wrong.”

As he eats the fruits, Yun Ji asks Feng Wanjie about how his new realm project is doing. Feng Wanjie, understandably, looks surprised and awkward at first, but warms up when he finds that Yun Ji follows his words without a problem— there’s a lot of talks about how to secure borders, terrains, and these are some of the few things Yun Ji knows well and thought a lot about.

“So this area is where I suggest you put a frontier stronghold. Be careful as well about this lowland— from the map, if the river is the size you’re mentioning, there might be floods if this pass here is clogged up.”

“I’ll take note of that,” Feng Wanjie says. Then he does so, literally— after grinding some ink, he jots it down. “This stronghold… to the west, I think the land will be going to the cyanbirds.”

“Ah, then… maybe this spot. West of it is open plains— if they attack, you’ll have a good chance of catching them with archers as they cross.”

For creatures the size of a _ qilin_, open battlefield is the better option. While they won’t have the cover of trees, they can still have cover from archers, and they’ll have the freedom of movement that’ll let them use their full strength.

They must’ve talked about this for hours— when they’d stopped, Mo Qi has gone back and forth, and is bringing them food.

“Sounds like you both had a good discussion,” he comments. There’s a pause, then he raises an eyebrow. “What? Don’t give me that look. I’m just glad. Wanjie’s been thinking about these things for months, I’m glad he can talk about it with someone.”

Feng Wanjie chuckles behind his hand. “He’s not wrong. The _ Qilin _ clan… it’s been in dire straits for a long time. Some of them have opinions about these things, but I wasn’t too sure about them. The _ Qilin _ territory is different from this new realm’s.”

“I’m only most familiar with human strategies, so adapting it to play to _ qilin _ strengths is important,” Yun Ji points out. “And nothing can beat real person survey of the landscape as well as having experts and locals all weighing in. But since there aren’t locals there, it’s best to take someone with good experience to check the area and see.”

“What Wanjie means is that us _ qilin _ hasn’t been joining any wars since we were born, but the elite generals and the likes have gotten too jaded and opinionated from our circumstances to give good advice,” Mo Qi says. “And it _ has _been something like 8,000 years since they’ve been in one, and it’s not even one in our own territory. I’m glad someone can give his opinions to Wanjie in this case.”

Yun Ji chuckles. “I’m happy to give my opinion. It_ has _been a long time for me as well, but these things stuck with me, I suppose. I’ve guarded almost half of Yanzhao’s borders collectively, which encompassed quite a bit of different geographies. Some were close to being arid deserts, while to the southwest they saw a lot of rain.”

“General Yun has rich experience,” Feng Wanjie says. “He must be invaluable to the Emperor.”

Yun Ji smiles, though it might be a little empty. “I had to learn and try. In that capital, there was someone I couldn’t bear to let down.”

63.

Quan Zisu is… affectionate.

It scares Yun Ji sometimes. What if he one day stops? Yun Ji is already too deep into this, he can't deny that he likes their closeness. He likes that feeling of connection. Admittedly, he relishes the onslaught of loving attention he’s lavished on him, the pet names that make his ears heat up.

But if all that is taken away from him someday, Yun Ji will break.

He will shatter like a rusty blade, and all it will leave is shards and a dusty red stain.


	8. Chapter 8

64.

Yun Ji returns to work two months later, though still only part-time. The headache gets to him during several growing periods, and several space-time distortions have led to several strange new dragons to join the kitchens. They've moved to Dragon's Basin now. Business is picking up.

He maintains close correspondence with Feng Wanjie. It's honestly nostalgic, thinking about those problems. It's kind of nice. Yun Ji has spent the month prior to returning reading up on _ qilin _history and politics. It's giving him new insights to the issues, and Feng Wanjie is ecstatic about that.

Quan Zisu is….

65.

"You shimmer so brightly now. It’s like watching a full bright autumn moon up close.”

Yun Ji blushes— he's regained _ that _now. “That’s— that’s a bit… hyperbolic.”

It’s hard to take that rebuttal seriously, though, when he’s accepting the _ rest _ of what Quan Zisu is doing: two cups, wine, the moon. The weather’s taken a turn for the colder; they watch it from the security of Quan Zisu’s room, wrapped up with an extra layer or two. Quan Zisu has given him a blanket to keep his lap warm, too.

“It’s more proper to mention only the moon’s beauty on this fine night, but my eyes have been transfixed on a more pleasing sight.”

Yun Ji really wants to hide his face in his hands. How is Quan Zisu like this? Yun Ji hadn’t even taken up a wife before his death— after a lifetime at the borders, he had no experience with romance. He’s not prepared for _ this_.

Quan Zisu is propping his chin on his hands, now, gazing at him through half lidded eyes— Yun Ji turns to the cup and chugs it clean, feeling the heat burn through his skin. It’s the depths of winter now, but now all he feels is _ hot_. Goodness gracious.

“Ah, the clouds just obscured the moon.”

“Quan Zisu,” Yun Ji grits out, ears burning, “spare me, if you can.”

Laughter. Quan Zisu moves back and pours him some more wine, pushing the plate of snacks towards him. “I’m sorry, you do have a very endearing blush. It’s very sweet. It makes me happy to watch you get all red like that.”

Really, Yun Ji thinks, I’d never have expected this man to be… secretly a bully.

Yun Ji sighs, though a chuckle slips into the sound. "How are you able to say those things with a straight face?"

Quan Zisu laughs. Getting up, he moves to sit right beside Yun Ji, removing the barrier of the table between them. Their arms press flush against each other, shoulder to shoulder. He leans forward and grabs himself a bite.

"Frankly, I'm not _ usually _this forward. Usually I still assume a semblance of civility, try to be more composed. You're very earnest and upright. I don't mean this in a bad-spirited way, but it makes me want to tease you."

"At least that explains where the elegant Quan Zisu went," Yun Ji says, shaking his head. "It was a front, huh? The lure."

Quan Zisu nods. “He had to go, if I wanted anything between us. May I kiss you?”

Yun Ji stills. "Come again?"

"Yun Ji, my dear, may I kiss you?"

Before his death, his father General Yun Feng had told him that he found a marriage match for him. She didn’t need to be his main wife, his father explained; she was the daughter of a good official, one helpful to the Yun family army, and not that of a nobility. He died before the match was confirmed. Later on the Emperor offered to wed them, but Yun Ji was stuck at the borders most of the year, going from one end of the country to the other. Mere years later, the Emperor died….

Never mind a wife, Yun Ji never even went to bed with a woman during his service. Even when they did go to flower houses or entertained by dancers and musicians, he stuck with his men and didn’t disappear with anyone midway through.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know _ anything_, though. He had seen his men find a woman during their time in the army. He had seen them find each other, indulging in the warmth of a friend— relations between men were more common in the south, but it wasn’t like it never happened in Yanzhao.

Still….

“I— I know nothing about how this… I don’t know what to do.” Yun Ji glances to the side. “You’ll have to— hmm….”

Eyes crinkling at the corners, Quan Zisu chuckles. He picks up Yun Ji’s hand, looks up for permission, then kisses his knuckles. “My beloved, I'd do anything for you if the incentive is kissing those lips of yours. What should I do to earn it?"

“You're very—” Yun Ji looks down. “You can't regret it without telling me first. I simply won't— I won't be able to take it. I'll just… break.”

A kiss to the back of his hand. “Ji-_er_, I don’t regret the things I do. But to let your heart rest easy, I will tell you should that hypothetical day comes true. "

66.

“Shi Xiao.”

Today’s a day off. Usually that meant Shi Xiao would’ve gone back to the Dragon Palace, but it seems like he’s not in a rush this time, having just enough time to taste the _ tanghulu _ one of the new dragon staff is making. When Yun Ji calls out to him, he swallows and smiles at him.

“May I help you with anything, General Yun?”

“Ah, I just wanted to thank you for the books the other day, and if you have the time, maybe ask some questions? You’re a busy man, I understand that very well.”

The new dragon staff looks like a young boy, and apparently is a crybaby— Yun Ji hasn’t had much interaction with him, seeing as he is shy and wary for the most part. He’s withdrawing right now, even though Yun Ji is just talking to Shi Xiao.

“It’s not a problem, I have time,” Shi Xiao says. Turning to the boy, he smiles once again. “The _ tanghulu _ is delicious, may I take the rest of this stick with me? This is the sort of good dessert people would happily spoil their appetite for, _ ah_.”

“Y-yes, of course, Shi-_gege_!”

They go to the gardens to sit. The plot next to them is growing hydrangeas, and they’re blooming quite vibrantly despite the season. Along the way, Shi Xiao eats his _ tanghulu _— it’s quite an amusing sight, thinking back on how professional he tends to be.

“So, did General Yun have questions about the _ qilin _ politics?”

“Mhm. I just had some questions about the old king?”

Shi Xiao tilts his head. “Pardon me if I can’t answer some questions, but I will do the best I can.”

Yun Ji shakes his head, smiling. “No, I understand. It just doesn’t seem to be covered in these books… the previous king abdicated the throne to Feng Wanjie?”

The books he got never covered it clearly— it just goes from one reign to the next, not even explaining how Feng Wanjie ended up on the throne. The previous king was a Mo; Yun Ji reckons Mo Qi is from the same family as him, but the relationship isn’t cleared up. It _ does _ explain how brazen Mo Qi is about beating up a cyanbird elder, though. Being that close to the royal family does lead to, ah, _ confidence _ in people.

What’s interesting to Yun Ji is the details they put into Feng Wanjie’s career before becoming king, though. He was a very active member of the government, advising for a wide range of problems. Due to his age and life experiences, he made a stark contrast to his conservative, older fellow ministers, often advising to loosen the millennia-long isolation the _ qilin _clan was leaning towards and to strengthen diplomatic ties to other clans. Some politicians also note that his fixation on making a new realm started quite early, with his reasoning citing the long-term nature of such solutions.

It _ really _couldn’t have been easy for him. It does make Yun Ji wonder if he became king just for that.

No, it can’t be. Yun Ji remembers now, what Feng Wanjie told him that day— _ there is one person in this world that I cannot bear to let down_.

Shi Xiao hums. “Well, technically this isn’t… ah, let’s say it’s a public secret within the _ Qilin _ Palace, and most people who know most of the basic facts can assemble it for themselves, so it’s not really a secret. The previous _ qilin _ king is Mo Qi’s father. Before Mo Qi ever took up his mantle, though, he went and told the previous king he was abdicating the throne to Feng Wanjie.”

“Mo Qi was the previous crown prince?!”

_ That _ is a surprise. The man was literally out there delivering babies in villages before Feng Wanjie got hurt. 

“Heh, that’s how everyone reacted, too,” Shi Xiao chuckles. “His, ah, personality and work makes it hard for many to actually piece that one out, but most elders of all races know about this fact. Not all of them know that the two are close, though.”

“Feng Wanjie calls him Ah-Mo,” Yun Ji points out.

A laugh. “General Yun, but most of them hadn’t met Feng Wanjie while Mo Qi is there. There is a large difference, I assure you.”

The conversation ends not long after that, with the biggest mystery in Yun Ji’s heart resolved. Shi Xiao teleports to where he needs to go, Yun Ji goes back to his room— there are some things he needs to think over.

Lately, he’s been doing a lot of unofficial work for the _ Qilin _ king, and thought that he ought to at least know whom he’s helping. The picture he’s getting isn’t bad, but with this big piece of _ why _ and _ how _ Feng Wanjie became king, it’s become better.

Feng Wanjie worked hard from even his days as an advisor to best help Mo Qi, and later because he cannot bear to squander Mo Qi’s trust in him. Yun Ji can understand that. Yun Ji can _ trust _that.

Yun Ji can allow himself to help someone like that.

67.

Quan Zisu is sleeping nestled into his arms, one hand on Yun Ji’s waist. His breath is warm on Yun Ji’s chest. His hair, braided for bedtime, spills over the side of the bed.

Yun Ji dozes back to sleep.

68.

Feng Wanjie and Mo Qi drop by at the end of the 4 months Yun Ji was supposed to be at the _Qilin_ Palace. They enjoy a nice lunch, where they apparently share an Osmanthus Cake for dessert, and _ then _visit Yun Ji.

"All right, take these instead and you wear off the old painkillers over two weeks, got it? I portioned it out for you exactly, so do it _ exactly _ as I say." Mo Qi holds up several bags of medicine, placing it back on the table after Yun Ji nods.

"Thanks again, Mo Qi."

"It's my job," Mo Qi waves off. "I'll let you talk with Wanjie, he's been wanting to for a while. I'll wait for you downstairs."

When he leaves, fond eyes follow him— they linger even on the closing doors, before Feng Wanjie gathers himself and refocuses. "Apologies for bothering you when you're on recovery, Yun Ji."

"We're all friends here," Yun Ji says, waving. "I'm hardly in recovery anymore— the wounds have long since closed. So how are things?"

Feng Wanjie proceeds to explain the migration plan he and his council have drafted, laying out a map on the table as he does so. Yun Ji pulls out knick-knacks left behind in his room by Boss and Quan Zisu— a half-finished scented candle, a thumb-sized jade statue, some clam shells. The candle becomes the proposed location of the Qilin Palace. The shells string together to make residence areas of the new capital. The jade statue is the location of the portal.

"We didn't get to map the vast majority of the area, though," Feng Wanjie says, tapping absently on the table. "After last time, though we want to proceed at full speed with the migration efforts, many of our people are scared."

Yun Ji has heard of what's become of the news— many articles ended up smearing Feng Wanjie's name, calling the project a lie or the king a destructive manipulator, and the restaurant started kicking out journalists not here for a meal on grounds of being disruptive. It was quite a ride.

"It definitely is worthwhile to send trusted individuals ahead and rebuild that trust with the public," Yun Ji says.

"You don't think the incident can repeat?"

"I don't believe you'd have rushed with it if it's still dangerous. If you say proceed, I assume the problem wasn't really about the realm."

Feng Wanjie blinks, then smiles.

“Thank you General Yun for your faith.”

69.

“Why did you even call out to me that day?”

Several twangs, each a fraction higher than before— Quan Zisu is sitting at leisure in his room, tuning his _ qin_. Yun Ji is oiling his sword, wiping it down with a soft scrap of cloth. Birds outside are chirping in the morning glow. At the question, Quan Zisu looks up, lips pursed as he mulls it over. 

“Ah? It hadn't been a good day for me. Then I saw someone pensive, and I thought, well, misery loves company. If I’m feeling frustrated and upset, at least I’ll feel it alongside someone who is, too.”

“...Am I really that miserable?”

A chuckle. “You were more… transient. To me, you seemed untethered, though you worked hard to ground yourself. There was just too deep a sadness for you to wade through life normally. And there is nothing wrong with that, tragedies do that. I saw that and I guessed, someone might listen to my music and not feel sad for _ me_.”

“I see.” A pause. “I guess when I listened, it mostly just… resonated. It was pulling me along.”

"Music can resonate with everyone, but _ how _ differs between individual life experiences," Quan Zisu says. "Some people cry because the song was sad. Some people cry because the song reminded them of sad things. Some people cry because the song _ dragged _them back to confront tragedies. All are valid reactions to music."

Yun Ji can't help but mull over those words.

"How do you feel now, though?" he asks Quan Zisu.

Quan Zisu blinks, pauses, then laughs. "Oh, I just really like sad music. I find them thoughtful. Yes, sometimes I do feel sad, but I do like it as an art. You don't need to worry about me too much, I don't think."

"I see. Good, then, that it doesn't _ make _you sadder."

A smile. Quan Zisu reaches out and tucks a lock of hair behind Yun Ji's ear. "That sense of loss has been ebbing. I think I already found someone better now."

70.

“You’ve been deep in thought lately,” Quan Zisu comments as they lie in bed. His hands are high up, tangled in Yun Ji’s hair— outside of its usual ponytail, the messy locks are spilling all over the place, and Quan Zisu is fiddling with them. Combing through them with his fingers, reaching up again to trace the base of his horns— Yun Ji keeps his head obediently low, letting the other do whatever he wants.

"_Qilin _ King has been good at ruling," Yun Ji says, eyes fluttering close. “I keep… thinking about that realm thing.”

Quan Zisu tucks back a strand falling across Yun Ji’s face. "Are you considering something?" 

"I don't know," Yun Ji admits. "It feels almost… wrong."

A hum, along with fingers trailing on his cheek, then a thumb rubbing it. "To move on?"

"I just…. I was Yanzhao's general."

After a pause, Yun Ji laughs, shaking his head.

“Sorry, I must appear very indecisive.”

Seemingly satisfied with playing with his hair, Quan Zisu's hand falls to his waist, tracing exposed skin. “What's the apology for? It's called thinking your decisions through. Ji-_er _ shouldn't immediately assume the worst of himself like that.”

“Sorry. It’s a habit.”

“Then we should phase it out, shouldn’t we?” The hand on his waist becomes an arm, and that arm tugs him closer to Quan Zisu’s body. They press flush against each other, nose to nose, lips inches apart. “General Yun Ji is a very good man who will be irreplaceable no matter where he goes. No matter what his choice is in the end, this Zisu thinks it’ll be for the best. The general has done so much already. Even if chooses to rest, I think it’s about time.”

Yun Ji buries his face in Quan Zisu’s neck, pressing his eyes against the skin of his nape. “I don’t deserve your faith in me….”

71.

They play _ qi. _

Just one game. Yun Ji ends up looking up the rules again, teaches Quan Zisu, but in the end they get distracted by other things.

"Your serious look is doing things to me," Quan Zisu says.

The rest is… yeah.

72.

“Can you tell me more about your experiences?”

Another call. Tonight, the topic is just like it’s been this past few weeks— the matter of the new realm and how to settle it, and earlier this week they’re looking into settling first with the army, as well as some interested independents. Yun Ji has been giving some anecdotes of his own experiences with resettling villages and civilians during war, and Feng Wanjie listens to every word with keen attention, nodding now and then.

“It’s a different circumstance, but those are my stories,” Yun Ji says.

“They're very useful," Feng Wanjie reassures. "Though some within the council have led expeditions, the teams in them are small compared to the tens of thousands you've led. The _ qilin _ clan has never been a large one, so these accounts help in scaling up."

“I could help lead, if you want."

Feng Wanjie pauses. “General Yun?”

Yun Ji weakly laughs. “I'm a soldier, Feng Wanjie, I have no worth outside my duties. It's about time I make myself of use."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter and im FREE from this..... but i accidentally dragged myself into knox/carlisle of all things i hate this game


	9. Chapter 9

73.

Yun Ji shows up at the _ Qilin _ Palace to be introduced.

"He was… a drought demon, previously?"

Judgement most definitely drips from that comment, but Yun Ji doesn't answer. Feng Wanjie is still smiling.

"He was. Isn't it incredible, then, that the heavens deem him to be an auspicious creature like a _ qilin _at heart? We live in times of new possibilities and unusual potentials. Having a general like General Yun who's lived through such variety of situations might open to us new perspectives we've never thought of before."

Standing beside him, Mo Qi smirks with pride.

74.

“I dreamed about him again,” Quan Zisu confesses, playing with Yun Ji's hair as they take their sweet time getting out of bed.

Yun Ji blinks the sleep out of his eyes. Ah, he's become so undisciplined. “Who, surnamed Pei?”

“Mm. He got married to this woman for political reasons. She asked who I was, and he said I was just… a _ qin _ master. I used to be so angry at that.” Quan Zisu’s lips twitch into a wan, lazy smile. He buries his face into Yun Ji's neck, nuzzling with his nose. “Then because I got angry in the dream, again, I turned around, and you were there.”

“Ah?”

“And you called me by my name and led me elsewhere. I think he got angry. I think at first because you ruined his moment, but also because you’re so much more than he is.”

A government official and the General, Duke of the First Rank Duke Who Upholds Exemplary Virtues, there is no way to compare them fairly.

Yun Ji wraps his arm around Quan Zisu's waist.

“Ah. It’s a good dream, then.”

Quan Zisu laughs, pressing a kiss on his jaw. “It really is.”

75.

“_Xiao jiujiu_, can you not go? You promised to….”

Xin-_er_… Xin-_er_, _ xiao jiujiu _ isn’t going anywhere, he won’t leave you….

“_Xiao jiujiu_, you’re all I have left.”

Your Majesty, my king, no matter where I go, you will always have me.

76.

“I love your smile,” confesses Yun Ji.

“You….” Quan Zisu’s eyes are wild. “You are _ not _ allowed to say that in such an earnest way, it’s simply illegal."

77.

“Ah,” Yun Ji says.

“What is it?” Boss asks, peering over. In their arms is a massive stack of books: finance logs, like farm upkeep, restaurant upkeep and all other fragments of spending and income. It’s a weekend, and everyone’s doing their own things— and Yun Ji chose to stay in to read books today. A letter arrived.

“Boss, I might need to take 6 months off in the near future. _ Qilin _ King managed to convince his court to let me build a military encampment on the land of the new realm.”

Boss frowns, dropping the stack of books on the table to stretch their hands.. “Not that I have a problem with the 6 months, but are you sure you'll be safe? Feng Wanjie came out of it almost dead.”

It's been over half a year since then. The wider world have let the incident go, focusing more on what to do with the new realm, but a small few haven't. Boss has taken a real liking to the _ Qilin _ King ever since he showed up more often with Mo Qi— they have that glint in their eyes like they do when they’re really protective about someone.

“It wasn't from natural causes, remember? He transferred the wounds of his group onto himself.” Yun Ji rolls the scroll back up, putting it aside. “I'm taking an entire fragment of an army, and it’s not as if I would do what he did. The worst that could happen is honestly that we'll get harassed by local wildlife.”

From the preliminary reports written during the first expedition, the creatures of the new realm aren’t much a departure from this realm. They’re different, sure, but nothing so immediately deadly that living there is an impossibility.

Boss purses their lips before shrugging.

“Well… be careful. I don't know what I'd do if you got hurt the way Feng Wanjie did, but I'm telling you, patient or not, I'll smack you.”

78.

“Will you really be going?”

A lazy evening. Discarding everything irrelevant to comfort, the two of them have taken to sprawl over each other as they see fit, with Yun Ji trying to get through a more recent novel and Quan Zisu fixing one of his hair decorations. He’s been trying to reattach a pearl— it seems that his efforts are partially hindered by the fact that his head is lying on Yun Ji’s lap, and Yun Ji’s arm is obscuring part of his vision.

“Mm.”

“I miss you already,” Quan Zisu says, nuzzling his waist. The hand grasping the accessory fall to the side, the other across his stomach— there’s a lazy sleepiness to him that’s making Yun Ji feel a bit lazier, too.

“We haven’t even decided on a date yet. I think it’ll be sometime after the New Years— that’s still rather far.” After all, they still need to prepare for the logistics of it. There’s still a month or so before he has to go, three weeks the fastest.

"I know. But I miss you already."

Yun Ji laughs helplessly. "Well, I'm still here right now."

"Ah, that's true. Then I will make full use of it.” Infused with renewed energy, Quan Zisu lifts his head from his lap, flops to lie on his stomach, then nuzzles his—

Yun Ji turns bright red, swatting his face away with the book in his hands.

“Zisu!”

Quan Zisu laughs, and doesn’t stop.

“My apologies,” he chuckles still, eyes twinkling with mirth. He sits up, pulls Yun Ji back to a more upright position after half-scrambling back, and settles back into a slightly more socially-acceptable distance. “Shall we take things slow? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. May I?"

"...Yes."

Hands first cup his cheeks, then he leans in, then they kiss.

It’s not their first kiss. But it’s— gentle. It’s warm. The more Yun Ji thinks about it the redder he becomes, but he doesn’t move away, tilts his head just a bit when Quan Zisu breaks it so each of them can breathe. A thumb plays with his lower lip, then playfully pokes into his mouth.

79.

"May I?"

Yun Ji looks up at the man hunched over him— with reddened face, he nods.

Fingers coax him open and the two of them become one. 

The waves rock him, and Yun Ji lies back, and lets the water take him.

80.

Yun Ji had gone to the coast, long, long ago.

It must’ve been from before his father died, perhaps when he was a teenager— though the timeline wasn’t clear, he knows that it was during his halcyon days. 

The waters stretched out into the horizon, blinding with how they took the sunlight and turned it into a hundred thousand daylight stars— 

He remembers getting into the salty water, the weight of it on his skin, the sticky heat. 

Days. He remembers spending days harvesting pearls. A local showed him how to do it. Yun Ji kept several as a gift, then gave the rest away to the locals to sell. They seem to have a particular folk belief.

Pearls are tears of mermaids.

Yun Ji looks up from the small box, to Quan Zisu’s face, then back to the item lying on a small silk pillow.

A tassel. It must’ve been made with an unusual thread, because they have a wispy look to them, like softer rice paper or perhaps even spiderweb. Its centerpiece, though, is a pearl and a clam— twined with a gold wire, the accessory looks precious and incredibly fragile, and Yun Ji is too afraid to take it out of its box.

“Zisu, I… I might break this if I bring it with me. It’s too beautiful.”

Quan Zisu laughs. “It’s sturdier than you might think— these are made to be worn while one swam around in the sea, you know? There are currents underwater, if you live down there, you might find that water isn’t so tranquil. Give it a try first.”

Yun Ji gingerly picks it up, placing it on his palm. The tassel is, in fact, softer than a ghost’s touch.

“You must bring it with you,” Quan Zisu says. “Pearls are a mermaid’s tears, and the clamshell shelter it. In whole, this charm, this is my heart that I will give to you. You’re going away for a long time, so you have to be good and never break my heart, okay?”

Yun Ji’s eyes redden.

“I will protect it to my dying breath.”

“Silly. Break that charm all you want, just come back to me alive. I said don’t break my heart. My heart is with you now.”

81.

“Care to join me?” A voice from below— Yun Ji looks to its source and sees Quan Zisu. “I’m heading further down the island to play some music, and I found myself in need of company from a beauty. Care to join?”

Yun Ji's eyes soften. “This gentleman is too polite, clearly he is the whiter jade to the eyes here. But if what you need is company, then I will gladly come.”

Quan Zisu laughs, holding out a hand. “What a fortunate man I am tonight.”

A day, for instance:

Moonlight. Two figures walk side by side, once again today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finished!!! thnsk for reading my quanyun agenda


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